Free Into the Shadow by Christina Dodd Page A

and comfort. She would not be his compliant bride.
    She listened, heard nothing. Furious that he lingered so near, she snapped, ‘‘Get out, damn it!’’
    No one answered.
    She opened her eyes.
    She was alone.

Chapter Nine
    K aren woke knowing exactly where she was. She knew why she was here. She remembered every last horrific moment of the day before, and most of all, she remembered Warlord.
    She heard footsteps. He was in the tent. As he moved closer she carefully freed herself from the blankets and prepared to leap.
    And she heard Mingma’s soft voice say, ‘‘ Namaste , Miss Sonnet.’’
    Karen’s eyes sprang open. She came out of the bed in a rush. ‘‘Mingma? You’re here? He captured you, too?’’
    ‘‘Miss?’’ Mingma’s brow knit as she stared in puzzlement. ‘‘What do you mean, capture? He bring me for you.’’
    Karen thought she must be more disoriented than she’d realized, because that didn’t make sense. ‘‘Where’s the warlord?’’
    ‘‘Warlord is gone.’’
    ‘‘Gone from camp?’’ Karen grinned with savage pleasure. ‘‘What time is it?’’
    ‘‘The sun will rise soon.’’
    ‘‘We can get away.’’
    ‘‘No, miss.’’
    ‘‘Don’t worry. I’ll make the plans.’’ Karen pushed her hair out of her face. She was good at planning, good at taking advantage of opportunity, and she needed to escape now, first thing, while this warlord guy was out drinking with his buddies and celebrating his new concubine.
    Mingma tsk ed and shook her head as Karen tugged at the pair of men’s jeans that sagged around her hips—Warlord’s jeans. ‘‘That is not attractive. Warlord requested I find you new clothes to wear.’’ With a smile, she gestured at a blue-green georgette skirt and midriff-baring shirt intricately worked in gold-threaded hand embroidery. ‘‘He says bring only the finest and most beautiful, and I do.’’
    ‘‘That’s a pretty fancy sweat suit.’’
    ‘‘Sweat suit?’’ Mingma cocked her head at Karen’s sarcasm. ‘‘I don’t understand ‘sweat suit,’ but the color is like your eyes.’’
    ‘‘Great. Just what I always wanted.’’
    ‘‘Will you wash your hands and face before you eat?’’ Mingma gestured toward the hammered-copper pitcher and bowl.
    ‘‘God, yes. Thank you.’’ Karen splashed the cold water on her face, vanquished the last of the cobwebs, and felt a rise of confidence.
    ‘‘Will you change before you eat?’’ Mingma stepped close and tried to tug at Karen’s shirt.
    ‘‘No! I’m not wearing that. ’’
    ‘‘You don’t like it?’’ Mingma actually looked hurt.
    ‘‘It would be hard to hike in. Are all the men gone?’’ Karen didn’t wait for an answer, but opened the tent flap and looked.
    The thin, gray premorning light spilled into the long valley, and from up here she could see it all—the cliff on one side, the gorge on the other, and the narrow bottleneck of an entrance on the far end. On the flat valley floor a dozen men slept in bags and tents, and two sat hunched over, cleaning their rifles. One of them glanced up at her, then glanced up toward the other end of the valley. Following his gaze she saw a guard sitting high on a rock, rifle in hand. Looking more closely, she saw other guards stationed strategically at lookout points, dressed in camouflage and holding an impressive array of firearms.
    ‘‘This isn’t going to be easy.’’ Karen stepped out and scanned the mountains around them. ‘‘We can’t fight our way out, so we’re going to have to be crafty. I wonder if these guys are open to bribes.’’
    Mingma stepped out beside her. ‘‘You want to leave?’’
    ‘‘Of course I want to leave!’’
    ‘‘Why do you want to leave Warlord?’’
    Mingma didn’t understand. Obviously. So, in a voice gravelly with fury, Karen said, ‘‘Because the bastard brought me here against my will, that’s why. To use me like . . . like a whore.’’
    ‘‘Not